The End
by Donna Vito Frutti
Summary: Based on last episode of Homeland, season 6. Second chapter is a wish fulfilment.
1. Chapter 1

_But you saved me._

 _Yes._

 _Why?_

Carrie didn't look again. She didn't mourn. For some reason, she felt like she had already mourned. Only her tears were left now and they seemed to fall involuntarily.

What could she expect? She had woken up a dead man and he had come back changed, just a shell of his former self. Like very little of him had actually been _back_. And he had felt it.

 _Why,_ he had asked. The word echoed in her mind. Every time his eyes had met hers, he seemed to be asking her the same question, over and over again. Why bring him back ? Why live like this? And even now it haunted her.

 _Why?_

She had been selfish. She brought him back for information. She brought him back because the thought of losing him scared her _._ And because she loved him. Too late for that.

She could hear the wailing of sirens in the distance, signalling ambulances drawing very near. Dar had probably called them in, to try and save his protege, just in case. But it was already too late.

The President was shaken. She was trembling as she straightened herself up in the car. And then she, too, saw the slumped figure in the driver's seat.

"Is he dead?"she asked.

"Yes," Carrie answered. He wasn't really alive to begin with.

"He saved our lives!"

"Yes." He had always saved her. Always.

"What was his name?"

Carrie struggled to say it. Like so much was contained in that name. Like her life depended on it.

"P-Peter Quinn."

As she said it, she felt it again, the lateness of it all.

She had seen the glimmer of a future with Quinn, once. He had declared his feelings for her, once. Once upon a time, Quinn was the only one who stood by her through thick and thin. He had seen her at her worst and not flinched, once. And she had loved him back, once. It all seemed such a long time ago.

And so _late._

She also felt a sense of relief that it was over now, at last.

The paramedics had arrived. Two of them opened the driver's seat and the others checked up on the President and her. Another asked something and the President replied, then pointed to the seat in front of her.

They took his body into the van. They were saying something to each other and there was a sense of urgency as they hurried with him. Was there a faint pulse still? Were they trying to save him? Hoping to revive a dead man, again? She wanted to stop them. _Let him be_ , she wanted to say.

Someone escorted her into a car, away from the scene. She let him and didn't look back.

A year ago, she would have given anything, clung to the faintest hope, if it meant he was alive. Not this time. No matter how much it killed her, this time, she would let him go.

She didn't look, didn't mourn, didn't hope.


	2. Chapter 2

Dar paced in the room. He was on a call.

"What?"

"Critical!"

"Alive? That is wonderful news."

"Yes. It would be in your interests to make sure he gets the best care that you can afford. Do you understand?

Okay. I will be coming in as soon as I can."

####

Same day.

"You need a break, Carrie. Go home now. We will inform you when you're needed again. A well earned leave," the president said.

####

Three days later

"Carrie, it's me."

"Dar. What is it?"

"There is something I need to show you. Come to this address as soon as you can."

Carrie listened as Dar told her the address of a hospital.

An hour later, she was at the Sacred Saint hospital. As she moved to the reception area, someone caught her arm and she turned around instinctively.

"Dar!" she exclaimed, though not loudly.

"Come with me," he said, and lead her away from the reception.

"Dar, what are we doing here."

"You'll see. Trust me."

"Trust _you?"_ she scoffed.

"I know I have done some dubious things, but this is important and you should know about it."

"About what?"

Dar didn't reply. They took the elevator up to the second floor. Carrie didn't like this. But she thought it better to follow suit.

They arrived at room number 24 in the emergency/in-patient ward. There was a man in a black suit standing guard by the door.

"She's okay," Dar said, and the guard nodded. He opened the door and they entered. It was a very comfortable room, with nice clean curtains hanging by the window and some flowers in a pot by the bed.

Carrie looked at Dar and he nodded towards the bed. She walked forward.

She felt a strange sense of Deja vu as she came closer to the figure in the bed. She noticed the various tubes connected to his body.

And when she finally reached the bedside and looked down at the man in it, she gasped. She took a step back.

The world came crashing down around her.

"Is he...?" she turned around and asked. "It can't be. He is..." She choked.

"Yes," Dar affirmed. "He was a bit critical at first. Had lost a lot of blood, apparently. He is now... stable, I think."

Something burst inside of her, then. Relief, forboding, confusion and a whole host of other emotions that swirled around in her. Her eyes stung. But no tears came.

"He mentioned your name once or twice, while he was being put under." He paused. "And I thought you should know." He said softly.

Carrie turned away from the bed, as though she couldn't bear to look again. Perhaps it was a visual reminder of exactly what she had done to him the last time. Dar let her have a few moments and then spoke again.

"Come. We need to discuss a few things."

Carrie followed him as he led her out of the hospital and into a nearby cafe.

Dar sat opposite her, and ordered coffee for both of them. He surveyed her as she was still lost in a myriad of emotions. He sighed. Young people were so beautiful when they loved.

"Right now, the world believes he is dead. And he has to remain dead, until things are better. Believe me, things are going to get a lot worse before they very better. Keane is not going to take this lying down for long."

"You still don't trust her, do you?"

"I have my reasons, Carrie," he said, and continued, "You cannot see him again. He will be moved to another facility soon and he is already under a different name. No one can know. The President, the CIA, my people, McClendon, not even Saul. At least, not yet."

Carrie nodded, taking it all in quickly now, the trained professional that she is. "How long?"

"I don't know. But it won't be until i see things cool down a bit. Till then everyone must believe he is dead. Do you understand, Carrie? Until I say so, you cannot see him again."

"Okay."

"There must be a funeral, a service, anything to convince people. I'll make some of the arrangements."

Carrie nodded, and turned towards the window.

"I wanted him dead," Carrie said, softly. "He was suffering and I wanted it over for him. **He was unhappy because i brought him back.** When i thought he was dead, I was actually relieved."

"We've all been selfish in love, Carrie. Don't blame yourself. What matters now is the step we take next."

"Oh and Carrie, the President trusts you now. Try and get her to clear his name, will you, for his sake? And put in a good word about the rest of us."

He finished his coffee and rose.

"Dar," she called. "Why are you helping him? Why do you care?"

Dar sighed.

"Because, Carrie," he said, "I've been selfish, too. I want to make it right. Also, I could probably use your help."

###

Three weeks later.

Dar sits by his bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Pretty banged up."

"Listen, i have made a few calls at the GW. The director is a friend of mine. You will join as a teaching staff, there. In the Classics department. You always loved the Classics, didn't you?

Some of my fellows will be there, too, for your protection. You will be on sick leave until you feel ready. I've told them you had had an accident, and needs time to recuperate."

"Why do I have to hide?"

"Because you are still in danger. And you are still an important source. You will probably be declared a national hero by the President. Till then you will have to stay put. You cannot contact anyone.

I will come in if I can, from time to time."


End file.
